


my old man's got a problem

by drivingnotwashing



Series: you've got a fast car [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Dean Winchester, Always Female Sam Winchester, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide, John Winchester Finds Out About Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Lesbian Sex, Mommy Kink, Sibling Incest, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drivingnotwashing/pseuds/drivingnotwashing
Summary: John finds them a week after Sam’s eighteen birthday.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: you've got a fast car [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182335
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	my old man's got a problem

**Author's Note:**

> hello! here is the last part of the lesbian wincest series i didn't know i was going to start! i hope you'll enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it and i hope to see more sam and dean lesbians in the futute hopefully!!
> 
> trigger warnings:  
> \- sibling incest (and NO UNDERAGE THIS TIME because sam is eighteen!!)
> 
> as always if you don't like the ship/the concept, don't read! and if you do, enjoy!!

John finds them a week after Sam’s eighteen birthday.

They knew it would happen; it was only a matter of time and since it had to happen one way or another, now is a good time. May’s air is warm and fragrant, Sam’s legally an adult who can vote and run away if she wants to. Still, it takes them by surprise, quite literally.

John corners them as they’re coming back from a night out on the town. Sam absolutely wanted to try out this Ethiopian place, she’s all about new food and culinary experiences and Dean couldn’t have said no, wouldn’t have even tried. They went for drinks afterwards, in a bar near Dean’s new job at the auto shop where a few guys welcomed them with some pats on the back and an ice cold beer for Dean. Sam spent the rest of the evening laughing, cheeks red from the few sips she stole. Dean’s boss, Leonard, who is an old man with steady hands and shaky legs told her that she’d better keep that one close.

“Cute as a button, your girl,” He said, smirking at Dean, “The ones that like that, we spend decades running after them.” 

Sam was talking to one of the guys’ wife, her bangs were sticking to her forehead and her neck was damp with sweat. She was taller than half the people here, taller than Dean and Leonard, her long legs peeked from under her flowy cream skirt. There was something powerful and yet so naive in her. It warmed something deep in Dean’s stomach. It warmed her loins too.

“Don’t let her get away.” Leonard finished, gulping his lukewarm beer down before stepping off his stool and leaving the bar.

California was good to them, real good. Sam was thriving in college, she was happy, truly happy in a way their old life could have never managed. Her skin was dark gold these days, her hair was lighter and longer, her hands were getting softer and while she could still kill a man with just a bobby pin, she was mellow in a way that suited her. 

For Dean, it was different. She knew she looked good; she wasn’t blind or hypocritical enough to act like she didn’t see how people stared at her, but this wasn’t how California had changed her. She felt calmer,  _ safer _ . She enjoyed getting up at the crack of dawn, making coffee in the percolator Jessica, one of Sam’s friends, had offered them. She enjoyed making breakfast and waking Sam up with eggs on toast and a kiss on her cheek. She liked knowing that she would get paid every month at the same time, that she wouldn’t need to stand on a sidewalk late at night because her daddy had been gone for three months and had only left them fifty dollars. She liked her job, and she liked her colleagues who didn’t care that she came home to a girl. 

She liked holding Sam’s hand in the street and not feeling like a monster. She liked watching Sam run around their building’s communal garden, planting tomatoes, dirt on her face while one of their neighbors thanked Dean for fixing their AC. She liked how people called them,  _ SamnDean _ , together all the time and they didn’t find it weird because they didn’t know they shared a last name.

Dean liked her life, she hadn’t thought she would, when she had stolen her Dad’s car keys and drove away. She’d been sure that it would have left her indifferent; the apple pie life, the beaches and the restaurants, it hadn’t seemed like it could be her life too. Sam’s, yes, of course, Sam was built for this, for normal and light and goodness that overtook you. Dean was shaped in the form of grave robbing and gun oil, she was made for salt on the wounds and wet stone dust clinging on your fingers.

And yet, here she felt wanted. Palo Alto had always been for Sam, but Sam had always been for Dean and maybe that meant they could fit here. They could belong in the sun, hand in hand, cheek to cheek. 

John Winchester seemed to disagree. 

Dean’s on the ground when she gets what’s happening. Her arm is twisted behind her back, her face is on the floor. She hears Sam shout and movement over her body; she tries to see what’s happening, but she only feels the grip on her arm go lax and she jumps up. Sam has a knife, a three-inch blade she must keep hidden in her bag when she goes to class, to their father’s neck. It’s a small knife and if anyone else was holding it, Dean would be as afraid of it as she’d be of a bug, but this is Sam. 

“Sammy, drop the knife.” She says, trying to make her voice as relaxed and soft as she can. She hasn’t really looked at her father yet, she’s not even sure she wants to but Sam’s shaking and she won’t let her little sister commit patricide on their polished floorboards.

“Are you hurt?” It takes Dean some time to understand Sam’s talking to her, that the worry in her voice is directed at her.

“I’m good, kiddo.” A look at her baby sister’s stable aim.”Drop the knife for me?” She extends a hand to Sam, she’s so close to her father’s neck, she can feel his breath on her palm.

Sam never enjoyed being a hunter, but she was a damn good one. She could kill John right now, Dean wouldn’t be able to stop her before she slashed his throat open. Sam’s not mean, she doesn’t find pleasure in pain, but there is so much rage in her for their father, Dean’s a little dazed when she lets the knife go.

Sam’s eyes don’t leave John’s, she’s standing still, head up high, and Dean is always so impressed by it, this pride in her limbs. Sammy might be scared but she won’t show it. Dean can’t do that, she can hide fear, sure, but she can’t look at her father in the eyes, she can’t straighten her spine and act as if she doesn’t feel small and stupid. 

She ran away, she took Sam, and _ she ran away _ . She disobeyed her father, disrespected every single one of his rules and teachings. She’s the oldest, her father’s right hand, she’s supposed to represent everything he is, and yet she did this. She took his car, his money, his youngest daughter and she drove far away from his quest. She can’t meet his eyes, doesn’t want to. Sam crosses her arms next to her, the look in her eyes is ice cold. 

“Hi Dad,” She says, there’s a glint to her smirk, something dangerous and hungry. “So nice to see you.” 

A bark, angry. “Mind your tone, Samantha.” Dean finally looks at her father, can’t help but turn to face him when she hears the way he pronounces her little sister’s name with so much venom. 

He looks older, his hair is gray near his temples, his stumble makes him look tired and his cheeks are hollowed. She feels shame and culpability rise to the back of her throat. She was supposed to take care of him too. 

“Do you know,” John starts, he’s clenching his right fist to his heavy breathing’s tempo, “What I thought had happened to you two?”

She’s going to puke on her own shoes. She feels disgusting, dirty and evil. She never meant to hurt him, she just wanted Sam to be happy. 

“I looked for you everywhere, called every single hunter I ever worked with to find out if one of them had found one of my daughters  _ dead _ .” Samantha straightens up at that; “I don’t know what made you girls think that this was okay, but it ends now.”

He tosses an empty duffle bag in Sam’s hands, “Pack your stuff, we’re leaving. _Now_.”

Dean feels the order ring in her body, she’s already thinking of how she’ll put everything inside the bag, how to maximize space. She doesn’t want to leave, it’s the last thing in the world she wants, but her father gave her instructions and she jumps on them like a well-trained hound. Sam’s not like that, not one bit. She lets the duffle fall on the floor, she doesn’t even look at it when she crosses the room and gets to the door. 

“We’ve been gone for two years, Dad,” She unlocks the door, opens it wide, Dean has no idea of what she’s doing. “I’m registered at Stanford under my real name. We took your car, didn’t ditch it.” John’s fuming, Dean’s this close of putting herself between them both, unsure of who might strike first. “How come it took you so fucking long to find us?”

John falters, his fist falls on his side, open palm. Dean stares at him with the question on her lips. How come, uh? 

“That’s not what’s important here, get your-”

“My bet,” Sam laughs, there’s no smile in her voice, no amusement. This is aimed to hurt. “Is that you spent two years hunting, that you found out where we were and only came to pick us up when you decided you were tired of doing the job alone.”

She turns to Dean, “I won’t leave. I won’t talk for Dean, but me? I’m not leaving with you.”

In mere seconds, John’s hand is wrapped around Sam’s arm, “You will, Sam, because I’m not  _ asking  _ you. It’s an order.”

“Yeah,” She’s showing teeth, “And I said no.”

It’s when John’s hand goes from holding to bruising that Dean finally speaks.

“Dad,” He turns to her with something wild in his eyes, she’s old enough to know it’s not normal, she’s old enough to know it shouldn’t be so easy to recognize the disappointment and resentment. It’s all for her. The anger is probably for Sam too, but this betrayal she can read is all for her. “I’m sorry."

Sam huffs a silent but defeated breath, John’s grip around her arm goes softer. “We never meant for this to go so far but,” She swallows back down the tears that want to escape her. She’s not going to fucking cry, not here and not for this. “Dad, we’re happy here.”

“And while you two were  _ happy  _ playing house here, Dean, people died.”

“I know that,” She says, “I know what we do, what  _ you  _ do is important but,” She thinks of Sam’s laugh, her sunburned nose in the Summer, she thinks of the homemade lemonade they sip on their window bench. She thinks of Leonard and Joe, Theo and Quentin who all welcomed her with open arms, saying they need fresh blood here, someone with a young and keen eye. 

She thinks of Sam, fourteen, blood all over her face, hands drenched in it. That shapeshifter who’d taken their father’s skin, who’d taken Dean’s after and who’d tried to kill her baby sister. She thinks of the way Sam wouldn’t stop trembling for weeks. How she cried in her sleep and begged for God, for Dean, for their Mom to just help her. 

If they hadn’t left, Sam would have killed herself. Maybe it would have happened while Dean got groceries, maybe it would have happened on a hunt, but she’s sure of it. Leaving wasn’t just for comfort, it was to keep Sam, to keep her close and keep her alive.

“But we never asked for it, Dad.” She finishes. It’s the first time in her entire life she’s admitted this, that hunting was never her choice, just a consequence.

John turns to her fully, lets her sister’s arm go and grabs her shoulders instead. “Dean, what happened to you?”

So many things, too many to count or recall. She’s been more alive these past two years than she’s ever been before. “I just want to be happy, Dad.”

John looks at her as if she were a stranger, maybe she is now, maybe she’s always been lying to them both, him and herself. “And I want Sam to be safe, to graduate college and get a job. She can have a real life here, Dad, she can be free too.”

She’s not sure what finally gives it away. They’d been hiding for years, but there must be something in her face, something in the way she says Sam’s name like it’s a prayer. Her father stares at her then takes a step back, mouth open and revulsion painting his face.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” He looks like he’s about to hurl, “People said you two were too close.” He looks at Sam as she walks by him and settles next to Dean, their shoulders brushing against one another. “But I just thought they were sick in the head, that they were seeing what they wanted to see.”

Sam’s hand creeps from her side to Dean’s. They link their fingers together. Dean feels like her heart might explode soon, she’s clammy all over and she can’t shake the repugnance in her father’s stare. But Sam is right here, she’s holding her hand and she’s not going to leave. 

“Go, Dad,” She says, it’s almost kindness, “There’s nothing left for you here.”

John looks at them both, at their joined hands and the deep flush Dean knows she’s sporting. He shakes his head, there’s more sadness than hatred in him now, she’s not sure how that makes him feel.

He steps out of the apartment, leaving his spare duffle at their feet. When Sam walks to close the door, he turns around.

“Stay safe, girls.” And then he’s gone.

Sam locks the door behind him. She grabs their bag of construction salt and puts a line down. “I’ll never get him,” She mumbles as she makes sure they’re safe inside.

Dean falls on the sofa with a thud, her head’s still swimming in questions and doubts. She’s relieved, this was the best outcome, but she also feels revolting. Who does this to their sibling? Who curses them to a life of secrets? Sure, they can kiss in public now, but there will always be a part of Sam hidden, the part Dean loves the most.

“Hey,” Her sister says, sitting next to her and caressing Dean’s knuckles, “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true.”

Dean looks up at her, “You don’t even know what’s in my head.”

“It’s probably some insecurity and self-hatred. I know you.”

Dean sighs, she’s tired to the bone, “What we are is wrong, Sammy, you know this.”

“I do,” Sam replies, “But I don’t care, never really have.”

Dean stares at her, she continues, “I didn’t grow up like you, Dean, I don’t have an idea of what normal is. I mean, I’ve seen families on TV, I’ve read books and I’ve heard how kids in my classes talked about their parents and siblings, but I didn’t have that. I have nothing to compare this, our life now, to.”

“Even orphans know incest is bad, Sam.”

“Yeah, sure, it is. But did anything else make sense to you?” She turns her head slightly, like a puppy asking for pets. “I mean, look at the way we lived, Dean. You were my sister and my mother, you were my father and my teacher. You became my lover, and you were my drill sergeant, my confidant.” She runs her fingers in Dean’s gelled up hair, scratching over her ears, “You took every single role in my life, made them yours, I didn’t have an inch of existence that wasn’t built in your shape.”

“That’s not healthy.”

Sam’s so close, she’s two steps from climbing on her lap, Dean will let her. “Sure, yeah, you’re right. But I don’t really fucking care, do you?”

She doesn’t, can’t because Sam’s thighs are wrapping themselves around her and her sister might be the size of a bus but Dean’s a strong girl. She lifts Sam up, carries her to their room and lets her down gently on their bed. They changed the sheets two nights ago, now they’re a deep cobalt blue, Sam chose them, they look perfect with her skin.

“I don’t,” She whispers against Sam’s throat. She gets her shirt off, Sam’s too. She tosses them over her head and gets to work on Sam’s bras while her sister’s hands automatically reach for her bare chest. She hasn’t worn a bra in years, doesn’t really need to with what she’s packing. But Sam does. She spends a small fortune in good, eco-friendly bras that actually fit her. Dean will never admit it, but she’d be ready to work her entire life and then some if it meant feeding Sam’s bras expenses. “I should, but I really don’t, Sammy.”

Her little sister, this kid she raised with caring hands and kisses, looks up at her like she’s the most beautiful thing in the world. Dean could never feel unwanted, not when Sam’s eyes spell entire love songs. She’ll always be her kid sister’s hero, she’s a fixed point in Sam’s life. It shouldn’t make her wet, it’s just another way she fucked Sam up, making her dependent on her approval, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t like how Sam belongs entirely to her. She belongs to Sam too, all of her, but there’s a power imbalance that isn’t right between them, something a therapist would have a field day with, but which makes Dean groan louder.

“Open your mouth, sweetheart,” She murmurs. Sam obeys, she doesn’t think about it. Dean gets two fingers past her lips, rubs them on her pliant tongue, “That’s my good girl, my little Sammy.”

Sam moans, it sends vibrations through Dean’s hand. She gets her fingers out, trail them to Sam’s perked up nipples and twists one between two digits and the other in her mouth. Sam bucks up, Dean smiles against her breasts and puts her two fingers in Sam’s mouth again.

“Get them plenty wet for me, baby, need you to do it for me.”

Sam sucks and licks, drool spills from her plush, pink lips. Dean takes them out and goes lower. Sam’s mouth is open again when Dean pushes one finger inside her. Her sister lets out pitiful little whines, like a wounded animal. Dean drinks them up.

When she pushes a second finger in, rubbing at the outline of Sam’s silky smooth walls, she dives in, her tongue finding her baby’s clit and soothing the ache Sam must feel with kitten licks. She laps at it slowly, teasing, maybe a little mean. Sam can’t stop calling out her name, Dean’s not entirely satisfied.

She presses her thumb on Sam’s clit, hard, and goes to kiss her deeply. She lets Sam’s tongue search for her own taste inside her mouth before she bites at her bottom lip gently. “What do you want, Sammy girl?”

“I-” Her sister’s so out of it, there’s spit all over her chin, tears on her cheeks. 

Dean reiterates, rubbing circles on Sam’s sensitive clit and bottoming out with three fingers deep in her sister’s sweet little cunt, “Tell Mommy what you want, Sam.”

She’s not sure of what pushes Sam over the edge, if it’s the name or Dean’s unyielding touch. Either way, she seizes for almost a full minute, shouting so loud and biting on her lip so hard she’s bleeding. Dean licks the red pearls on the corner of her mouth as she puts Sam’s hand to her own naked crotch.

They’re so fucked up, the both of them, sisters in love trying to live a normal life. Dean’s not sure where she and Sam begin and end, but she knows for sure that they can’t be cut apart, can’t be incised away from one another.

“Shh,” She kisses as her sister’s fingers start moving, “Don’t cry, sweetheart,” Sam’s sobs resonate in their home. She’s not sad, Dean knows, she’s just overwhelmed. Maybe from the sex or from the sweet nonsense Dean keeps confessing in her ear. She directs her sister’s hand, shows her the pace she wants. She bites at Sam’s neck, leaving a baby pink mark. She knows California is the final stop. They won’t leave this place, won’t leave each other either. It’s all Dean has ever feared and wanted. It’s too late for regrets now, this is who they are.

Sam moans, she’s sucking on Dean’s nipple, doing what her big sister is asking. Dean guesses this is love, too. “Show Mommy what she taught you, Sammy.” She says, and it feels like emancipation.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are deeply appreciated!
> 
> ↠ find me on [tumblr](https://itstartswithbloodshed.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/drivingnwashing/)


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